


Warmth

by hips_of_steel



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fluff, M/M, i know im surprised too i can write things that are not angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-24 06:01:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13804947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hips_of_steel/pseuds/hips_of_steel
Summary: If there’s one thing Texas knows about California, it’s that he’s a damn workaholic. But sometimes all that work catches up with you, and your body is going to make you take a rest.Luckily, Sam's around to make sure Roberto actually listens to his body and gives himself time to recover from his fever.





	Warmth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crikadelic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crikadelic/gifts).



> Sam Seguin (APH Texas) as always, belongs to the wonderful crikadelic.
> 
> Roberto Fremont (APH California) and Beverly Joseph-Astor (APH Oregon) belong to me.

If there’s one thing Texas knows about California, it’s that he’s a damn workaholic. You can stop that man for no one, and he refuses to be stopped by just about anything.

Sam doesn’t mind when Roberto wakes up. Five AM in California is seven AM at home, the time he’s normally getting up and greeting the sun. And the house in Napa Valley is quiet, compared to the Los Angeles residence Roberto keeps.

But that doesn’t stop the Californian from attempting to work himself to death.

He’s up at five, and in the shower within a minute. By the time Sam has managed to wake up, grab his clothes, and pop his head into the bathroom, Roberto’s already dried off and dressed.

He’s so beautiful, and Sam would tell him as much if Roberto wasn’t normally already out the door past him, headed towards the kitchen.

By the time Sam gets downstairs, Roberto’s finished cooking breakfast, and is busy reading the LA Times on his phone while he eats.

And then when they’ve finished their meal, he cleans the kitchen and goes for a fucking run! He’s back by seven AM, takes another shower, and then gets dressed in whatever clothes his business calls for that day. He’s styled, primped, preened, and out the door by 7:45.

Sam doesn’t fucking get him.

But he follows after him on his business normally when he’s visiting. There’s not much else to do, unless he wants to hide in the house and read all day, or take off without Roberto somewhere. And frankly, when dating the goddamned Wonder Boy of the West, neither of those is as appealing as spending time with your boyfriend.

Sam knows Roberto has a lot of local businesses all over the state, which he manages as best he can in person and by proxy. Sometimes the day’s business is the little grocery store he owns. Then there’s the houses he rents out in the Sierra Nevadas, which he fixes up in the summer months, and tends to as best he can. And then when they’re in LA, there’s Rob’s production company. To be fair, he’s not in direct management of that one, but he still tries to get involved in some small way with every production. Especially if he’s written the scripts! You can’t get him out of the studio if he wrote the movie.

And even in Napa Valley, Roberto’s buzzing like a busy worker bee, because here is where he comes to “relax” and “rest up”. By running a winery and walking up and down the rows of grapes, and managing the place and  _ working out in the fields himself _ .  And his garden in the back of the winery, which is huge, and is open to all the people who work at the winery. He tends to that little plot of land himself, besides some of the watering.

Sam knows that Roberto feels its important to be involved in his people’s lives, and to support them as best he can. And he knows Roberto feels pride when he drinks a bottle of wine made with his grapes, or eats a meal made with groceries he bought at his little store. He loves putting his money he earns back into his own economy, and investing in his people’s happiness.

But the man  _ does not stop for almost anything _ . 

During lunch, he’s sitting there reading scripts, he goes home at night, cooks dinner, and  _ dictates _ to his phone the outline of a new plot. He’s spent numerous nights sketching out characters at his desk, planning for the day he can push some small time actor with true talent and a good personality under the lights of Hollywood and make their dreams come true.

And only when he feels he’s done for the night, or has returned from some other event, does Roberto undress, brush the gel out of his hair, and curl up and go to sleep.

And at 5 AM the next morning, he starts it all over again.

There’s a reason he’s earned his nickname of Wonder Boy of the West, because it's a wonder he’s still  _ alive _ .

So when the alarm goes off this morning, it’s slammed off as usual, and Sam doesn’t expect it to be any different than normal.

Until suddenly he feels Roberto’s hands wrapping around him, pulling himself close.

Sam turns his head slightly, glancing at his boyfriend. “Good morning, honeybee.” He says, letting his drawl be extra heavy this early in the morning.

“Mhhmmm.” Roberto mumbles into his back, and Sam starts to realize that something is really odd.

When he can convince Roberto to leave California and visit him in Texas, he’ll take the morning slow, or when they go camping, or something similar. It’s then that he gets cuddly and affectionate in the morning, because he has nothing else to worry about.

But they’re in California… in the height of his preparations for the coming year’s winter.

And he’s not moving to go anywhere.

Sam slowly rolls over, and Roberto barely moves. “ _ Mi alma? _ ” He asks quietly.

“‘m cold.” Roberto murmurs, sounding exhausted.

Alright, something is wrong, indicated both by the exhaustion in Roberto’s voice, and the fact that he’s cold  _ and hasn’t even gotten out of bed _ . The Californian keeps his house at a warm and comfortable temperature year round, he’s so damn  _ delicate _ in the cold.

Not that the Texan has much room to judge him on that, but Beverly loses her fucking mind laughing at how much of a wimp Roberto is when it comes to the cold.

Sam carefully moves a hand up, pretending to be brushing hair out of Rob’s face, but instead he sets his hand firmly on Roberto’s forehead.

And in a moment, he has his answer. 

“You’re running a fever.” He states.

“I’m cold.” Roberto growls, without opening his eyes, and burying his face in Sam’s chest. Sam sighs.

“Soaked in cold sweat is more like it. I’m going to go get a thermometer, and you’re staying in today.”

“No.” Roberto responds, although Sam isn’t sure at what exactly, and the clingy Californian’s efforts don’t stop him from getting out of the bed, try as he might. Roberto’s determined efforts are feeble when Sam has around fifty pounds on him and isn’t feeling the effects of illness.

So instead, he immediately steals all of Sam’s half of the blankets and burritos himself into a blanket cocoon while Sam dresses in a t-shirt and shorts. When Sam glances over, all he sees of Roberto is a few tufts of black hair and the lower half of his face, clear for breathing.

“Comfy?”

“Steal a blanket and die.” He mutters back, and then rolls his face onto the pillow, hiding it completely from view.

Roberto might be a workaholic, but it’s also his God given right to be dramatic, and he’s taking full advantage of it in this moment. Sam rolls his eyes and goes off to get the thermometer.

He has to forcibly  _ roll _ Roberto over to take his temperature when he gets back, and his eyes are now cleared of blanket for the sole purpose of glaring at Sam. He looks like he wants to bite the thermometer in half as it sits in his mouth. Sam knows what the screechy beep means as he pulls it out before Roberto can do just that.

“And to no one’s surprise, your temperature is 103.2 degrees Fahrenheit.” He says after reading the tiny little screen.

“Fuck you.”

“You already do.” Sam responds, used to this. Roberto gets infinitely more pissy and fussy when he’s sick, and thankfully, Sam has dealt with it often enough at this point to know the drill.

He still remembers calling Beverly the first time Roberto had been sick while they were dating and had been determined to give Sam as much trouble as possible. The threatening Oregonian shout of “FORCIBLY MOVE HIM OR ELSE I’LL COME DOWN THERE AND MOVE YOU” upon discovering why Sam had woken her up at five AM had pretty much told him all he needed to know.

When push came to shove around a sick Roberto, it quite literally was push versus shove. And Sam was not going to lose.

“I'm going to go make breakfast. And if I hear the shower turn on, I will be up here and dragging you out of it. You're running too high of a fever to shower right now.”

“I'll shower if I want to.” Roberto snaps back.

“Alright, I can't stop you from attempting it, but be aware, you will be dragged out of it forcibly and made to stay within my eyesight for the rest of the day.”

There's silence at that, and then Roberto growls out a few insults and rolls over, burying his face back into his pillow and groaning.

Sam knows that's as close to saying “Fine!” as Roberto will get in a moment, and nods, but he decides to listen for running water anyhow, just to make sure Roberto doesn't dare to crawl into the shower.

He makes a few pieces of toast and fries up some bacon and eggs. It's quick and easy, and when he goes upstairs to fetch Roberto, the man is still a blanket burrito of misery.

“Food’s ready.”

“I don't wanna.” Yells the pillow Rob still has his face buried in.

Sam rolls his eyes, and wraps his arms around the middle of the man. “You can walk or I can carry you. Which is your pride willing to take today?”

“Fuck you.” Replies the pillow, and then he feels Roberto start to wiggle his way out of the blanket burrito. He releases him so he can get free.

Roberto looks like shit, his almost flagrant abuse of his body becoming obvious. Dark circles under his eyes, and a slow and sluggish movement, uncharacteristic of his non-stop personality. He wraps up the duvet around himself, and shuffles after Sam down the stairs.

He nibbles on the eggs and bacon, and finishes the toast, tiredly staring somewhere into the distance when Sam hands him a glass of water to sip on.

Once Roberto’s ate as much as he will when ill, Sam takes two glasses of water into the living room, and opens up the wooden chest by the window, pulling out a few blankets. He snorts when he recognizes the Pendleton stamp, meaning these were gifts from Beverly, and lays them out on the couch.

Roberto stumbles into the living room, and Sam glances at him. “Choose a movie, and we can rest for a while.”

Roberto glances over. He has a smaller selection here at this house than in LA, but he points out Indiana Jones, thumping down onto the sofa while Sam sets up the DVD player.

And as soon as the movie’s started, Sam sits down on the opposite side of the couch, and Roberto flops over so his head is in Sam’s lap. Sam spreads another blanket over him, and as Raiders of the Lost Ark continues, he’s not surprised when Roberto stops responding to his comments, sleeping quietly.

He turns down the volume somewhat, and strokes Roberto’s hair. It’s so soft when it’s unstyled in the morning, and he sighs.

Roberto rolls slightly in his sleep, his face looking up now, and Sam gazes down at the man he has to admit, he has stubbornly fallen in love with. His dark hair and beautiful skin, that shitty half beard he somehow manages to pull off flawlessly, and even though they’re currently closed, those dark brown eyes that draw him in like quicksand.

The movie ends, and he sits there for a while until Roberto wakes back up.

“How long have I been asleep?” He whispers, and Sam checks his watch. 

“An hour and twenty minutes, give or take? You should try to nap a little longer.”

“I’m still cold.” He murmurs, and pulls himself closer to Sam. Sam shakes his head, but decides to offer to indulge him.

“If you take your temperature again and then drink some water, I’ll cuddle up with you while Temple of Doom plays.”

“Mhhmmm, skip Temple of Doom, go straight to Last Crusade. Sean Connery’s voice is really calming.” Roberto murmurs, and Sam takes that as acceptance of his fate at this point. Roberto is, in his own way, admitting that he is sick, and is not going to try and push himself any further (Sam and Beverly have caught him doing just that a few times. Another push coming to shove moment for all of them).

Sam returns with the thermometer, and brings Roberto some Tylenol. He’s still at a fever with his temperature being 102.8, but he takes the Tylenol, and then Sam sets up The Last Crusade to play.

He’s glad for Roberto’s deep sofa as he lays down against the back of the sofa, pulling the edge of the blankets and duvet over him, and then pulls Roberto close to him. Roberto’s shivering quickly stops as Sam rests his chin on the top of Rob’s head, watching Harrison Ford act the part of a professor after the opening, and then turning into the Indiana Jones everyone knows

But then Roberto rolls over, turning away from the screen, and burying his face in Sam’s chest again.

“ _ Mi alma? _ ” Sam asks.

Roberto doesn’t answer, pulling himself closer, and Sam shakes his head, adjusting his own arms to hold Roberto closer.

There’s quiet, and Roberto’s back to sleep a few moments after Sean Connery appears, Sam smiling and kissing the top of Roberto’s head. 

Roberto’s warm and safe and  _ asleep _ , and Sam allows himself the luxury of savoring this moment as much as he can.

The Last Crusade is paused, and since Roberto sleeps like a dead man, he adjusts their position, and wraps the blankets tightly around both of them.

Snuggling up to Roberto, he kisses the top of his boyfriend’s head, and then closes his own eyes.

Soon enough, both men are fast asleep, and the cocoon of warmth that the blankets and their bodies provide allowing California to recover safe in Texas’s arms.


End file.
